


Mr. Right

by Karkalicious769



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Also I may or may not rip your heart out, And demands for tags, Fluff, Heterochromia, Mostly DaveKat, Multi, Reincarnation, Soulmate AU, also angst, multi-ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-21 21:05:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7404712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karkalicious769/pseuds/Karkalicious769
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Karkat Vantas, and for as long as you can remember, you’ve only had one serious life goal. To find your heterochromatic match. Or, simply, your soulmate. Because once you find them, your eyes will stop being two different colors. You’ll have found your better half. And you love your soulmate, no matter who they are, so why are you developing feelings for Dave Strider? (A lot of other pairings (because soulmates), but mostly DaveKat)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Worst For You

\- August 22nd, 2016 -

Your name is Karkat Vantas, and if it was even physically possible by this point, you're willing to bet that the hands on the clock would move even slower, simply to spite you. You've only been in this class for about ten minutes, but it feels like an eternity has passed. You feel as though your soul has withered and died only to be reborn anew in order to torment you yet further, in the time it has taken for the minute hand to move from the 6 to the 8. Are you over reacting? Maybe, but like Hell you give even a single fuck. You're a high school sophomore, dammit! And it's only the first day of school, too. How are you ever going to survive an entire year of- wait, what class are you even in right now, anyway?

You're not sure. A quick glance at your schedule should tell you, but you don't care enough to pull it out. Besides, your minimal to non-existent interest in whatever your teacher is droning on about is immediately forgotten when the door slides open.

Instantly, you frown.

He's a new kid, obviously. Your town isn't necessarily small, but it's not as though new kids aren't obvious. For one, you've never seen him before. You make it your business to know who's who in your poor excuse for a home town, and then promptly do everything in your power to avoid socializing with them. Plus, he has that sense of hope about him. The kind of person who still believes that he's going to do something meaningful with his life after high school. No one who has lived in your town for more than a year would ever be foolish enough to believe that anymore.

But hopeful or not, you take an instant disliking to the guy. He's wearing a dark pink shirt that reads, "HOT A WHAT" in thin, yellow lettering, which is just fucking shameful. He's practically begging to get his ass kicked and, in your stereotypical high school, you're sure that he will eventually. He has an obnoxiously blonde shade of hair - to the point that it's almost white - and you know that there's no way it's natural. Either he dyed it, or you're going to find the DNA manipulator who did this and give him a piece of your mind. The final feature that makes you detest his very being is his shades. Shades. Indoors. What kind of absolute douche wears fucking shades indoors? Obviously, he does. Wow, you hate him. He's been standing in the doorway for all of ten seconds and you're already imagining what it would be like to wrap your hands around his skinny, pale little neck.

You also have the undeniable urge to see his eyes, but you shove that feeling deep, deep down in the pit of your stomach, and bottle it up. You seriously can't believe that you're so desperate to find your match that you'd actually consider him.

"Sorry I'm late." The new kids says, looking in the general direction of the teacher. His tone is apologetic, but considering the blank look on his face, you have a hard time believing that he's not using some advanced form of sarcasm.

The teacher purses his lips distastefully, and glances quickly down at his roll call sheet. "It's not a problem… Dave." He nods his head towards the only empty seat in the room and, despite yourself, you tense. "Just please take your seat. Right there, next to Mr. Vantas."

You sigh and look away, doing your best to appear uninterested. It's unlike you to care so much about any one person so suddenly - even if your idea of "care" involves snapping his arm in half.

Dave (you should have know that his name would be something so simple - it's pure irony) takes his seat and faces the front of the room, much to your relief and frustration. He appears to be just as intent on ignoring you as you had expected. You can't figure out whether or not that's a good thing, and it makes you hate him all the more.

Eventually, you decide that you're not going to let him rule your life, so you pull out your notebook and force yourself to pay attention, scribbling down notes furiously when the opportunity arises. You don't know what you're trying to prove. The only time you've ever hated someone as much as you do right now is when you first met John, but that was only after you had talked to him several times and even then, you were deluding yourself. He's one of your closest friends now. You really only got over your unnatural hate for him after befriending him. So… maybe you should try to make Dave your friend? The thought sickens you, and by "sickens" you mean that it twists your insides in a way that isn't entirely unpleasant.

Shit, what is happening to you?

You're so relieved when the bell finally rings. If there's one good thing about Dave, it's that thinking about him at least makes time pass by a lot faster. But then you realize that you just admitted to thinking about him for the better part of an hour, and any good opinion on him instantly wilts.

You're so ready to be rid of his presence that you shoot up in your chair and accidentally send your supplies flying, skidding across the ground. You groan, and drop to the floor, picking your stuff up before anyone can step on them. No one seems to have the decency to help you, but at least they avoid stepping on anything. Halle-fucking-lujah.

"Is this yours?" A voice, smooth and carefully controlled, attracts your attention, and you look up. Dave is kneeling in front of you, his binder tucked under one arm and yours outstretched towards you. His face shows no hint of emotion, but "blank" isn't exactly the right word, you think. It bugs you - that you can't come up with the right words, but you decide that it can wait until later.

"Yeah. Thanks." You say tensely, taking it back from Dave hesitantly. You're not entirely sure what to expect from him. A minute ago, you would have pegged him as an insensitive dick, but he seems to be the only one in this damn school with manners. You decide that you can at least try to be polite.

He nods and stands up straight. A strange look crosses over Dave's face, but before you can question it, it's gone. "See you around." He says finally, and then he turns and walks away, leaving you with papers and pencils still scattered across the tile floor.

You stay there for a moment, on your knees and clutching your binder to your chest, before you return to your senses. You close your mouth, which was open to say something - anything - that would have made Dave stay, and close your eyes until your cheeks return to their regular color. It takes longer than it should, because when you close your eyes, you just see Dave again. It's like he's imprinted on the back of your eyelids.

At the very least, you now know the right word to describe Dave's expression. Empty. He's empty. Just like you used to be before you filled yourself with hate and anger and resentment. You don't want Dave to end up like that, too.

You glance at the clock. 10:25.

Dave has been in your life for less than two hours, has said six words, and looked at you twice, if that. And you think you're falling for him.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

You let these confusing feeling fester inside of you all through second period and on your way to the cafeteria for lunch. You don't normally eat lunch, but you need some guidance and as much as you sometimes hate your friends, a few of them occasionally say worthwhile things. Most of these things come from Kanaya, but you wonder if you'll be able to pry her away from her soulmate long enough to get any good advice from her. Probably not, but you can still try, right?

The cafeteria is just as you remember from last year - loud, cramped, and reeking of the slop that your educational system considers to be "food". Your nose crinkles in disgust, but you push on anyway. You much prefer the library over this. You're not sure how anyone couldn't, but you suppose that there's no accounting for taste.

As usual, your group of friends has pushed two tables together and are talking animatedly, shouting and laughing to be heard over the roar of the rest of the room. It should quiet down a bit once the other students pack up their lunch and take it to somewhere else in the school. Like you said, the cafeteria is cramped. There's hardly enough tables to fit the freshman year alone, much less the whole school, so students are allowed to eat wherever they want as long as it's within reason and so long as they can make it to fourth period when the bell rings.

You look around the table for a moment and, coming up empty in terms of helpful friends, take a seat next to Terezi. She's one of your closest confidants, both literally and figuratively. She's also blind, not that it stops her from being one of the biggest smartasses you know. Her pupils are still visible, it just looks like someone put a milky white layer over her eyes. You kind of feel bad for her. Because Terezi is blind, she's never going to really find her soulmate. She's going to have those same two eye colors - one bright teal and the other a dark cerulean - for the rest of her life. No sight means no eye contact, which means no happy ever after like in your romcoms.

As if sensing your melancholy thoughts, Terezi turns to face you, grinning as usual. "Glad you could make it for once." She elbows you playfully, and you roll your eyes.

"Don't get used to it." You sigh, and press a quick kiss to her cheek. "I'm just looking for Kanaya. Have you seen her?"

Terezi pretends to be offended, and puts a hand dramatically over her chest. "You'd rather hang out with Miss. Fussyface over your own girlfriend?" She crosses her arms with a huff. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were cheating on me."

You make a sound that's somewhere between a chuckle and a snort, and roll your eyes again. Terezi has the power to make you do that a lot. "Yeah, sure. As if Kanaya isn't attached to her soulmate at the hip." Now it's your turn to cross your arms, so you do.

It's been a week since you last saw Terezi face to face and, in that time frame, you must have forgotten that - even though she's blind - she's always been able to see right through you. Her grin slips into a frown, and she surveys you for a moment before saying, quietly, "You could just call her by her name, Karkat."

You don't reply. Now is neither the time nor the place to delve into the clusterfuck that is your emotions. You stand up, brushing aside the hand she was about to put on your shoulder. "Whatever, Terezi. I'll find her myself. See you later." You tell her distractedly, and head towards the entrance you just came in a moment ago. You don't look back, but you know exactly what her face looks like right now. Her lips are pressed together to keep her from frowning, and you can feel her disappointment and exasperation from across the room.

You just keep walking, blocking out her opinion on the matter as you always do. It's not your fault, really, it's not. You should probably talk to someone about this, though. Your first choice is Kanaya, but like you told Terezi, you doubt that she'll ever leave her sou- Rose, alone. That wasn't a lie. They had found each other just a month ago so, with the relationship new and wonderful, they're about as in love as anyone can ever possibly be. They are the definition of "in love" and, unfortunately, that means that Kanaya has little time for anyone else. But you'd probably do the same thing if you had your soulmate, so you can't blame her. You don't even care. She can do what she wants with her time - it's not like it affects you. Yeah. You definitely don't care.

Your contemplation on the levels of how little you care is cut short however, when you walk into something big and solid. You grunt, landing flat on your ass on the floor. "What the hell?" You snap, preparing to give this other student a piece of your already keyed-up mind, but your words quickly die in your throat.

Dave stands above you, his arms outstretched like he meant to catch you. Yeah, because that worked out so well. His monotone expression has slipped, and he looks mildly surprised, like he hasn't figured out what you're doing on your ass. You take minimal satisfaction from the knowledge that you got his façade to drop, even if your tailbone will probably be sore tomorrow.

"Shit." Dave says after a moment, and you can just picture the puzzlement in his eyes. Or, well, you could if you knew what his eyes looked like.

You sigh, rolling your eyes so hard that you bet the town over felt it. "Yeah, don't try to help me up or apologize or anything, dipstick." You say angrily as you climb to your feet. You're glad that you left everything in your locker before heading to lunch, because if you hadn't, it would be the classroom all over again. God, you don't even want to think about that.

He opens his mouth, no doubt about to point out that you were technically the one not paying attention, but before he can, running footsteps attract the attention of both of you.

John rounds the corner and comes to a skidding stop, looking slightly out of breath. "Thanks for waiting for me, Dave." He sighs, and you can't help but take notice of the sack lunch under his arm. It's so typical of him to forget stuff. You should really set up a system for him like those rubber bands Jade used to wear on her fingers in middle school. And you probably will, but for now…

"How do you know him?" You ask John, throwing volume control out the window as you gesture wildly to Dave.

You're usually a lot more mellow than this, and have been ever since you grew out of that loud pre-teen stage. John raises an eyebrow curiously at your behavior, but you ignore him. You want to know how your friend - possibly the most innocent child you have ever known - came in to contact with Dave fucking Strider.

"Well, uh," John begins, giving Dave a look that suggests he's just as lost as the blonde is, "Dave moved here about a month ago. He's Rose's twin brother. They're my neighbors and, also, he's been my best friend since I was ten. We talk on Pesterchum all the time." John frowns, waving a hand in front of your face. His eyes - one a vibrant blue and the other an obnoxious cotton candy pink - are full of worry, and you hate that almost as much as you wish you could hate Dave. "He's turntechGodhead. Does that ring any bells?"

Of course. The walls and walls of red text that John can never shut up about. How did you not see it sooner? You must be the densest motherfucker to ever walk the Earth. It all makes sense. You've never talked to him, but John and Jade are always talking about red text and purple text, who you assume is Rose.

Great. So not only has Dave managed to make you question the entire structure of your emotions, but he also took your best friend. Or, well, one of the closest at least. That used to be Kanaya, but… you don't really want to think about that.

"Yeah. Yeah, that rings plenty of fucking bells, John." You run a hand through your hair, suddenly deflated. You want to say more - you want to say plenty more - but you don't know what to say. Continuing to speak would probably just embarrass you, but you're not usually the type to settle down so easily, and with so few words. You can't think of anything to say that won't make your insecurities or you mind-numbingly huge inferiority complex painfully obvious. It takes a moment for you to swallow your pride, but once you manage to choke it down, you force yourself to turn on your heel and walk away. It takes all of your willpower to not slap that stupid smirk on Dave's face as you leave, but you manage. Somehow.

You hurry into the boy's bathroom and turn on the sink, splashing the cold, metallic water onto your face, which is red from embarrassment and anger. God, this is so unlike you. Why are you acting so odd? You feel like you're being written out of character in some shitty fanfiction to make the story flow better. In other words: you feel upside down and inside out when you're around Dave. It's just… not fair! What does he have that the other boys in your school don't? You've never liked blonde hair before, or stupid graphic tees, and you've sure as Hell never liked arrogance or a know-it-all smirk. So then… why? You'll ask it over and over until it makes since. Why do you hate to love him? Why do you love him at all?

Your eyes, tired and heavy, stare back at you in the mirror. You hate your eyes. Or, well, one of them at least. The one you hate is an ugly, dark red color. Slightly too red to be bergundy, but still dim enough that it could be brown under the right lights. Your left eye though - the one you adore - is a deep crimson color. It's vibrant and bright and you love it. You love that your soulmate is going to have such lovely eyes.

The bathroom door creaks open, but you keep your head down, sighing deeply. "Go away, John." You mutter. It crosses your mind that there are other boys in the school besides Egbert, but you're already embarrassed and full of self-hate, so misnaming a stranger doesn't really matter all that much to you in the long run.

"Sadly enough, I'm not John." Dave says, a hint of humor lacing his words. You can see his stupid pretty-boy smirk in the mirror, and your hands clench into fists. You wait for the teasing, the prodding, anything that fits your image of him. Something that will give you the excuse you need to punch him. But what Dave says next surprises you. "But in all seriousness, are you okay?" He asks, coming up behind you and putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. His smirk is gone now, leaving only casual concern. "Somethin' tells me that the show you put on back there isn't how you normally act."

You take a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut tight. If you concentrate hard enough, maybe he'll go away. But when you open them, Dave is still there, looking as though he can wait for your reply for years if he has to. "Why did you come after me?" You ask instead, purposely avoiding his question. You don't think he's ready for the answer. You don't think you're ready for the answer.

Your question takes him by surprise, and though he had appeared casual, you can tell that Dave had been wearing his concern like a mask when you see how easily it slips. He stares at you for a second, then sighs, leaning against the sink next to yours. "Guess I can't fool you, huh, K-Kat?" He murmurs, and you decide to ignore his horrid nickname for the time being.

"No. As I'm sure you'll eventually learn, Dave," You put emphasis on his actual name as a way of telling him that nicknames are not okay, "I'm very good at detecting bullshit, and you stink of it." You wrinkle your nose in disgust to prove your point.

Dave just shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "I'm sure." He agrees, then he falls silent. You let him, assuming that he's probably thinking of a good way to answer your question without showing too much emotion. That would be uncool, and you're pretty sure that Dave values his cool factor very much.

"I came in after you…" Dave begins slowly, and you turn your attention towards him, "I came in because I care about you." He says finally, as if it was a physical effort to tell you that. "And I can tell that you don't like me, but I'd like to start over. And maybe even be friends, Karkat." Dave admits honestly, and any snarky reply you had is instantly forgotten at the use of your real name. Something tells you that Dave only uses real names when he's serious. "If that's okay with you, I mean. Wouldn't want to waste these Strider charms on someone who's not prepared to be wooed." He had been staring at the wall as he spoke, but when he says this, he turns to look at you, smiling in a way that turns your face red all over again.

You clear your throat, turning away to hide your blush. "Y-Yeah." You stutter, and cringe at how shitty you sound. "We can start over, just give me some time alone for now." You say this all in a rush, pleading to any form of God that might or might not exist to make Dave fucking leave.

"Great." Dave pushes off of the sink, still smiling as he ruffles your hair. Usually, you hate when people do that, but for some reason- no. No, you don't want to admit that you uncharacteristically liked it. It's not happening. "See you around, babe." Dave gives you a little two fingered salute and finally - finally - slips through the door, gone before you can tell him that "babe" is not your goddamn name. "Babe", huh? You'll add that to the ever-growing list of "Things Dave Does That You Won't Admit You Like". You bet that this list will be miles long before you're finished with it. You could even submit it the Guinness Book of World Records for the world's longest list, but then you'd be admitting to liking those things, so you decide against it.

You groan, and sink to the floor, holding your face in your hands. What has become of you? Normally you detest this kind of behavior - especially from yourself - but you just can't seem to turn it off. What is Dave doing to you? This- this just isn't normal, and you refuse to believe that a guy like him has managed to wrap you around his finger in less than a day. This kind of thing only happens in cheesy romance novels that you refuse to read. You don't believe in love at first sight, and you probably never really will. Love takes time and effort and patience. A successful relationship - even between soulmates - doesn't just happen.

This shouldn't be happening to you. You hate Dave, but you want to kiss him until your lips are bruised and all you can feel is him. But he wants to be friends, and you think that you kind of do too? Why is this so complicated? Still… it's nothing you can't handle, right? You're Karkat motherfucking Vantas - self-proclaimed master of romance and relationships. Surely, you can handle a temporary crush (if it's not temporary you're going to shoot yourself) on one douchebag, can't you?

You can't believe how stupid your life has become in just four hours.


	2. The Wrong You Like

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before we continue, I should probably mention that "soulmates" implies reincarnation. I think the idea of that is really cute because you can fall in love with someone over and over again, and it's one main reason why I decided to write this AU to begin with. Fun fact, right?

December 23rd, 2016

You sigh impatiently, checking your watch for the umpteenth time. Dave was supposed to be out here five minutes ago, and you are seriously starting to grow impatient. This little surprise after-school outing was his idea to begin with, so where is he?

You check your watch again, but this time, you write down the date and time in the little book you carry around with you at all times before promptly shoving it back into the depth of your bag where no one (hopefully) will ever find it. The book dates back to the second day of the school year, which is when you bought it and began recording times. Four months - four fucking months - and you're still crushing on Dave. You won't say that it's love - because it's definitely not. He's just a really good friend whom you happen to like more than you should. You can't imagine why, though. He's a bit of a dick, as evidenced by the fact that he's left you waiting outside in the snow. It's the end of December for fucks sake, and you hate the cold.

God, this is probably the worst way to start your two week Christmas/New Year's break. It's Friday, and everyone else was gone ten minutes ago, but you? Of course not! Nothing is ever that easy for you.

You shuffle your feet, trying to keep the warmth circulating, and snap your head up when Dave finally exits the school building. Unlike the first time he caught you off guard, this time you know what you're going to say, and you just so happen to have a big mouth with which to say it. "Sweet almighty taintchafing fuck, Dave!" You snap, glaring at him. Your cheeks are red, but you tell yourself that it's just because of the cold. "What in Satan's glorious name were you doing that took so damn long?" Whatever the problem was when you first met Dave, you seem to be over it. Because now you're back to begin your usual smartass self, and definitely not that blushing pathetic mess that Dave befriended in the bathroom.

"Careful, Karkat, or I might actually think you care about me." He teases, ruffling your hair as he walks past. You, of course, follow him, albeit with a grimace on your face to make your unamusement clear. Dave's pretty dense, so you're taking no precautions. "I was taking a phone call. Wrong number - but I had her going for a while." Dave chuckles like he's the funniest piece of shit to ever walk the Earth and, impossibly, your scowl deepens.

"I wonder what kind of shitty thing I did to get stuck with a friend like you." You sigh, rubbing your hands together as you continue to send him waves of disapproval. "Or maybe I'm going to do something terrible in the future and you're the punishment I'm getting in advance. Or - better yet - maybe I'm just preemptively the worst fucking piece of trash to ever walk this shitty planet and I don't even know it yet. But, hey, your friendship is exhibit A, I guess." You mutter this last bit, crossing your arms. Dave just brings out the best worst in you, and befriending him hasn't seemed to change that. If anything, it's made your confusing feelings for him even more apparent. To you, at least. If all goes well, no one - least of all Dave - will ever know about your indecisiveness. Do you hate him? Love him? Hate to love him? Yes (you think). Will you ever do something about these confusing feelings? Not even if someone held a gun to your head.

As if sensing that you're thinking about him, Dave wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as you continue walking towards- actually, where are you even going? You're just letting Dave lead because he said that he wanted to take you somewhere but, now that you're thinking about it, he never specified where he was taking you, did he? That son of a bitch. How dare he distract you with that pretty-boy smile of his!

(You think promptly force yourself to forget that you just called his smile "pretty".)

You should pull away and demand answers, but you don't. You tell yourself that it's just because you're cold and Dave practically radiates heat. It's not entirely true, but it's true enough, so you accept it as fact and move on with your trainwreck of a life

Dave sighs in that over-exaggerated way of his, and you can tell that he just rolled his eyes under those God-awful shades. "You're such a delight, Karkat. It's no wonder that my family wants to meet you because, really, who wouldn't?" He tells you, his voice dripping with such sarcasm that you actually cringe.

"Wait, I'm meeting your family?" You ask once you recover from the cringe, confused beyond measure. You know that he has a twin - Rose, duh - and you also know that he has two older siblings in college, but that's it. Anything else has either been left unmentioned or just flew completely over your head while you were distracted. You get distracted way too easily, as evidenced by the fact that, whilst you were thinking about Dave's family, he had pulled you up to the door of a small, two-story house.

"Yeah, I'm sorry." He mutters, trying to work his house key in to the lock with tick winter mittens on. "I didn't want to, but they insisted. Talkin' like it's a fucking early Christmas present or somethin', so it was just easier to bring you myself rather than let them kidnap you on your way home. Not that it would surprise me if they did that." Dave explains with a sigh. The key finally fits into the lock and, with a small click, he pushes the door open. You hear footsteps on the stairs somewhere in the house as he turns to you and gives you a final, apologetic smile. "But seriously though. Sorry about this."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and you're about to ask what he's sorry for, when someone blonde and very, very pink envelopes you in a hug. And not a light, friendly hug, either. It's a tight, back-breaking kind of hug that should only be reserved for your dearly beloved after they've been away fighting a way for ten years. For a few seconds, you can't breathe and, as over dramatic as it makes you sound, your vision even goes black at the edges. Shit, what in the fuck can this girl bench?

After what you're certain is an eternity, she pulls back, grinning widely as if she wasn't just attempting to murder you. Because that's definitely what it was, and not even Dave (who's laughing, that motherfucker) can convince you otherwise.

"I'm so glad to finally meet you, Karkat!" She chortles, shaking your hand over-enthusiastically. Based on her white-blonde hair and pale complexion, you're absolutely certain that this must be Dave's older sister but, for the life of you, you cannot figure out how someone as sweet and friendly as her can be related to Dave. It just doesn't add up! She even speaks with a subtle southern drawl that Dave lacks, as if she's used to covering it up or is just now learning to speak with one. "Dave has told us all so much about you! Oh, where are my manners? Come in, come in." She says insistently. And before you can object, she's already ushered you into the house. The door slamming closed behind the three of you sounds like a coffin sealing shut and, indeed, you are certain that you will die here.

You give Dave a pleading look, and he actually looks guilty for a second before his sister is on the move again, tugging you into the other room by your wrist. You only follow her because you'd rather not have your arm torn from it's socket today, thank you very much. You assume that the next room is the sitting room or something similar, because there's enough chairs to fit about fifteen people. It's a little overboard you think, or at least you hope so, and you pray that Dave's immediate family doesn't consist of fifteen people. His sister is more than enough.

Speaking of sisters, you're a little relieved to see that Rose is here too, and you give her a hesitant smile that she graciously returns. You may not know her very well, but she's still familiar. A lot more familiar than the Dave look-alike leaning against the far wall, staring at you. You're not kidding, either. If his hair wasn't spiked and if his shades weren't so pointy, he would be a much better candidate for Dave's twin than Rose is.

Dave's older sister (what even is her name?) clears her throat, clasping your shoulder in a way that looks friendly, but you're pretty damn sure that she's going to leave a bruise if she holds on much longer. "Guys, this is Karkat." She grins. "He's Dave's, uh, "friend"." Then she giggles into her hand like she's a fucking comedian. Dave scowls and elbows her, but if anything, it just makes her laugh harder. "I'm R- Roxy." She says through her hiccups, and begins pointing out other people in the room. "I'm sure you know Rose, 'cause you go to school- with her, and the asshole in the corner who I have the pleasure of go- going to college with is Dirk." She gestures dismissively to him, and he scowls. "Dad is upstairs and mom is in the bathroom. You'll meet them when the- rest of the company shows up." Roxy turns to you, still smiling, and it's honestly starting to creep you out. Still, her smile becomes surprisingly easy to overlook once you finally take note of her familiar eyes. One is a vibrant blue and the other is an obnoxious cotton candy pink. Just… like… John's.

Oh, shit.

You grab Dave by the forearm and tug him back into the main entry way. Roxy lets the two of you go, much to your relief. "Dave." You begin slowly, glaring at him, and Dave at least has the decency to pretend to take you seriously. "You realize that your older sister is John's fucking soulmate, right?" You say all of this very calmly, despite the shit-flipping rampage you are having on the inside. No shit is left unflipped. You make sure of it.

Dave just rolls his eyes. He has this way of doing it that, despite the shades, makes it very clear that he's not respecting a single word that just came out of your mouth. "Obviously, Karkat. Jesus, I'm not a fucking idiot. Who do you think she meant when she mentioned "company", hm?" He smirks in that smug way of his, knowing very well that he's two steps ahead of you. He always is, and it infuriates you to no end. "It's a Christmas dinner party before my dad flies back out to Texas. My parents are divorced, so he doesn't live in Washington with us." He explains, seeing as how you're no where even close to being satisfied. "And we're all supposed to bring someone... important to this dinner for mom and dad to meet. Rose is bringing Kanaya, and Dirk invited his online video chat friend - fuck - Jake, I think. All of Roxy's friends are back in New York with their families because she's never lived here, so I invited John for her."

Dave smiles again, but this time, it's not a smirk. It's a happy, fond smile. He's not happy that he came up with the idea to invite John over, he's happy because of what that action is going to result in. Dave is a fucking sweetheart, you realize. You really know nothing about him, do you?

"Dave…" you say softly, and all of your anger and tension is suddenly gone. Because Dave's so close that it makes your head spin. The two of you are all alone, and your hand is still on his arm and you're both leaning in. Your heart pounds, but you're too caught up in the moment to care. You're close enough to feel his breathing, shallow and short, like he's just run a marathon, and your eyes slip shut and

The doorbell rings, sending you flying back almost five feet. Your heart is still pounding, but with adrenaline instead of desire. And your face is still red, but with embarrassment and frustration as you watch Dave turn and open the door calmly like the two of you weren't just having a moment.

"Hi, Dave!" John greets brightly, smiling the innocent smile of someone who has no idea what he's done. You haven't hated John like this in a long, long time.

You don't even try to smile at him when he steps into the foyer, not that he notices, because two things happen at once. Roxy, having heard the doorbell, comes bounding into the room like the social butterfly she is. And Dave sticks his foot out, tripping John and sending him sprawling flat on the floor. Kind of a dick way to do it, but you understand. John's glasses would simply be in the way. Eye contact means direct eye contact. Even clear things like glasses or windows get in the way.

His glasses lying next to him on the floor, miraculously unbroken, John lets out a low groan and rubs his head. "Shit…" He mutters, pushing himself up so that he's sitting on his knees.

"Oh my God, are you okay?" Roxy asks in concern, frowning as she kneels down to be at his height.

"Yeah, I'm-" John begins to say as he looks up, then stops, making eye contact with Roxy for the first time. "...fine."

You've seen it happen in movies several times, but it's a completely different thing altogether to see someone meet their soulmate in real life. Everything just seems to slow down, like the only thing that matters is the two of them as their eyes - Roxy's blue one and John's pink one - flash and flicker, circling through so many colors that it makes your head spin. It lasts just a few seconds, but you'll never forget the looks on their faces as they stare at each other, a pair of matching blue eyes and a pair of identical pink ones, with such happiness that it makes your stomach twist and you have to look away.

You hear them introducing themselves, laughing awkwardly as they both fumble for John's glasses at the same time, and start up a conversation that slowly fades as they take it to the other room. You hate it.

"Hey. You okay?" Dave asks quietly, coming up to stand behind you. You hadn't even heard him approach.

You nod, reaching up and wiping away a few tears (when had you started crying?) before turning to face him. "I'm fine, Dave. That was just… really sweet." You tell him, and he nods, accepting your words as the truth. It's about as far from the truth as you can get, but you don't want to tell him that. You don't want to tell him how jealous you are. You don't want to think about how badly you want that to be you.

Dave is about to say more when his older brother - Dirk, you think - walks into the room, a hard look to his features. And based on the giggling taking place in the other room, you don't blame him. "Dave." He says, looking strained. "I need to talk to you in private." You can't tell with the shades covering his eyes, but you think that his gaze slides over to you at the word "private".

You can tell that Dave isn't exactly thrilled at the idea, but there must be an unspoken rule that you haven't heard about, because he nods nonetheless. "Be right back." Dave tells you, an almost apoplectic tone in his voice as he follows Dirk down the hall and into one of the bedrooms. The door shuts softly behind them, but you've stopped caring. Because now you're alone.

Laughter resonates from the other room, warm and inviting, but you have little to no interest in joining them. You have no desire to watch the new couple giggle and fawn over each other like school girls. Especially when you can't do the same.

So even though you don't have to go, you trudge down the hall Dave and Dirk went down just a moment later, searching for the bathroom. You really aren't trying to find them, but you can't help but come to a halt when you hear voices. You hold your breath, not wanting to alert them to your presence as you inch closer to the cracked door.

"... should tell him." Dirk's voice filters out into the hallway, sounding serious and desperate as he tries to make his brother understand… something.

You can't see from here, but you think that Dave shakes his head. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing. If you're so against me keeping him in the dark, why don't you go ahead and tell Jake? We're playing the same game, Dirk, so stop being such a fucking hypocrite and let me do this." He sounds tense, like they've had this conversation over and over and he's tired of repeating himself.

"It's a completely different situation, Dave!" Dirk snaps, then takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "You… you don't have the time to do this like I do. I just want you to be happy. Why can't you see that?"

You hear the sound of bedsprings creaking, and you assume that Dave's standing up now, because what he says next sounds especially tight. "I am happy. I'm happy without all of the stupid soulmate bullshit. Don't ruin this for me, Dirk." The door opens exactly four seconds later, but you've already backed away.

You stand in the foyer, staring at the clock on the wall and doing your best to look as innocent as possible. Dave approaches you and says something that sounds like an apology, but you're not really sure. It just goes in one ear and out the other.

Because Dave knows who his soulmate is, and you're not entirely sure how to feel about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, reviews are much appreciated. If it's compliments, constructive criticism, or even just hate (because I like to have a good laugh every now and then) then I'd love to hear it!


	3. Nothing To Lose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit shorter than the others, but trust me. I know what I'm doing (for once). Consider this... the build-up chapter. The next one is a lot longer, I promise.

Yawning, you finally turn your phone off and lay back against your headboard. You really should stop doing so much internet browsing late at night, but old habits are hard to break, and you've been doing this since you were twelve. It's one in the morning, technically Christmas already, but you're not yet tired enough to force yourself to sleep. Still, you try, if only because you have nothing else to do. A final check of your phone has revealed no new notifications for you to busy yourself with.

You close your eyes, nuzzling into the cool side of your pillow as you focus on sleep. Insomnia is a pain in the ass. Sometimes, you're not even sure where you find the energy to crawl out of bed every morning. You're just always so tired. You don't remember the last time you felt awake. Most of the time, when you're "sleeping" you're actually just trying to stop thinking long enough to get some actual rest.

You're not sure how much time passes with you like that - clutching your pillow and waiting for sleep to finally come within reach. All you know is that, when someone taps on your window, it takes all of your willpower to not scream like a little girl. Your heart pounds with adrenaline as you look to the window. And your fear is almost immediately replaced with anger.

"Dave," you begin, opening your window to glare at your (and you use this term loosely) friend, "you cannot fathom how blindingly furious I am right now."

He just keeps smiling at you, like it's not almost two in the fucking morning. Your brother is in the room over, too. He's visiting from college for the holidays much like Dave's siblings, and if he saw your friend here, standing on a ladder outside your window, he'd probably lecture the two of you for a good hour before grounding you for life. Sometimes you wonder why you ever miss your brother - he can never shut up, and you have the patience of a gnat.

"Well, why don't you come out here and explain it to me?" Dave holds out a hand to you, but as tempting as it is, you resist the urge to take it. You aren't done being angry with him yet.

You reinforce your glare, but it does nothing to dim his strangely happy mood. "I don't think you appreciate the gravity of the antipathy I'm feeling towards you right this very second." You tell him, still eyeing his hand. "It's - what? - two in the fucking morning on a worldwide holiday. What exactly are you hoping to accomplish with this poorly-planned little stunt?"

Dave reaches out, taking your hand in his. You're glad - for just a split second - that your window doesn't have a screen in it. "Only one way to find out." He says seriously, looking at you in a way that makes your chest tight.

You sigh, but don't pull away. "You are the biggest dipshit, Dave Elizabeth Strider." Then, before he can reply, you hold up a finger to signal him to keep quiet. "Give me a minute to get dressed appropriately for this disgraceful weather, okay?"

He nods, still smiling, and you just roll your eyes as you shut the rarely-used curtains. Once he's out of view, you allow yourself a small smile. You can't believe how cliché he's being right now. You love it.

You hurry to get dressed, pulling off your pajama pants and donning a pair of old jeans. You think to change your shirt for a second, because it's the same one you wore around all day, but you decide against it, and instead just shrug on a winter coat. It's December in Washington, and it's two in the morning. It's going to be cold. There's also going to be snow, so you pass up your tennis shoes and instead slip on your heavy snow boots.

Once you've finished, you push the curtains open, and your expression falls. Dave's not there. You must've taken too long. Or maybe this whole thing was a dream? Maybe it's some sick joke orchestrated by John, the Pranking Master, even after all these years. You wouldn't put it past him. He means well, sure, but sometimes he crosses the line without meaning to.

A low whistle from below earns your attention and you look down, flushing with embarrassment. God, you are such a drama queen.

Dave waves you down from the base of the ladder. "I'll hold it steady." He says with encouragement, wrapping both hands firmly around its legs.

You nod to yourself, taking a deep breath as you straddle your window sill and sit securely on it. You dangle your legs out the window and into the cool night air, your heart pounding as you look down at Dave anxiously. Shit, you can't believe you're doing this. Despite the protests of your common sense though, you find yourself turning around and fumbling blindly for a few minutes until your foot finds purchase on the first step.

You make your way down slowly, and your heart doesn't return to a normal speed until your feet are firmly planted on the snowy ground. Dave grins, taking your bare hand in his gloved one. "Glad you decided to join me, Karkat." He tells you, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Me too." You say softly, staring at him for a short while before you come back to your senses. "So, uh, where are we going exactly?" You ask, taking your hand back. You're trying very hard to not think about kissing him in the snow and, in all honestly, it's not going so well. His close proximity isn't helping, but you don't want to move.

Dave shrugs, and starts walking. Apparently, he's just going to leave the ladder in place. Your window is still open, too. If you lived in any other town, you might actually be worried about someone breaking in. If anything, someone would climb up just to shut your window for you. Your town is too nice.

You hurry to keep up with him, your boots crunching the snow beneath you in a way that is entirely too loud. You feel the need to be quiet, and you do your best despite your heavy foot wear. "I don't know. I just… needed to get out, you know?" You think he's looking at you out of the corner of his eye, so you nod. "I didn't want to be alone though, and you're the first person I thought of." Dave admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he gives a small, forced laugh. "Hope your parents don't wake up and get mad at me for borrowing you."

You laugh, muffling the sound with your hand as you look up at Dave. "My parents won't care. They probably did this shit when they were my age. The one you really need to worry about is my brother."

He puts an arm around your shoulder, and he laughs again, only this time, it's genuine. "Oh really? What's your brother like, anyway? If I woke him up right now to find out, I think he'd get the wrong idea." Dave jokes, still smiling like he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world right now. It makes the butterflies in your stomach go crazy. Your heart pounds in your ears. You hope that he can't hear it, or else your secret little crush on him won't be so secret any more.

Laughter resonates between the two of you, and you're no longer interested in keeping quiet. You want to make Dave laugh again. You really like his laugh. It's a shame that you seldom get to hear it.

You and Dave walk and talk for so long that your legs go numb and you can no longer feel Dave's hand in yours. You don't remember when exactly you took his hand, but apparently you did. You have no idea what time it is anymore, just that you don't want this to end. Dave tugs you over to a park bench, and after brushing the snow off, you both sit, still laughing and talking about whatever crosses your mind. There's an ease to being with Dave. It's so easy to talk to him. Almost too easy, actually, and you find yourself having to bite your tongue sometimes when the urge to tell him about your feelings surfaces.

You're shivering despite yourself. It's so cold outside, probably below 20°F. You don't know the temperature in Celsius, not that it matters. It's not like someone from Europe is reading your mind right now. That would be stupid. What are you, some considerate writer who gives even the smallest fuck about how temperature is recorded in other countries? No, you are not. It's below 20 Fahrenheit, and that's the way it's going to stay.

"Karkat, if you were cold, you should've told me." Dave mutters with a slight chuckle. You suppose that he's laughing at you because you're being ridiculous, and you scowl, opening your mouth to colorfully tell him to "fuck off" but, once again, he takes you by surprise.

He removes his gloves, fumbling because they're thick, winter mittens, and sets them down on the bench next to him, gently taking your hands in his. Dave's hands are so hot that they almost burn, but your fingers are so numb that you don't care. You let him completely cover your hands with his, and you sigh in relief. You try to ignore your how close you are to him and close your eyes, focusing instead on his hands and his warmth. You shuffle closer, your heart pounding, and you hope to God that he doesn't notice your flushed face.

"Hey, Dave?" You say suddenly, keeping your head down. He grunts in recognition, not that you blame him. If your suspicions are correct (they're probably not), then he's just as distracted as you are. "What's the real reason you brought me out here?"

You open your eyes, looking up at him as he struggles to answer your perfectly innocent question. His face doesn't give much away, and had you not spent the last four months trying to decipher is ever gesture, you wouldn't have been able to see the little hints. Like the way his head is tilted to the right, meaning that he's not looking at you. His jaw is tense and his lips are pressed tightly together. You don't need to be a genius to know that there's something he doesn't want to tell you.

"I…" Dave goes to say, then trails off. You can see the gears turning in his head. And you're not sure why but, whatever he wants to tell you, it's clearly not easy for him.

You lift one of your hands (the cold air immediately stings, but that's not your biggest concern at the moment) and cup his cheek, turning his head just a fraction of an inch so that you know he's looking at you. "Dave." You say firmly, and if you didn't have his attention before, you do now. "I'm not a child. Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Wow, this is so fucking cheesy. Four months ago, you never would have been able to picture yourself on a date (this is a date, right?) with Dave. You wonder how he knew your favorite romantic clichés. Sneaking out to see each other, late night chats, and snow, falling gently around the both of you. All he's missing is the falling snow but, based on the darkening sky, that problem should be fixed soon enough.

He nods, and you get the feeling that he's not looking at your eyes anymore, though you can't imagine what else he could be staring at. "Okay, so… I'm gonna do something, and you have to promise to not freak out, okay?" He tells you, putting a hand on your shoulder. One of your hands is still holding his, tightly, like you're both afraid to let go. You hesitate, considering his words, then nod. You're not a child, you just told him so yourself. You can handle anything he throws at you.

However, you are most definitely not prepared for him to lean in (only a little bit - were you really already so close?) and kiss you. You're not ready for it, and your breath catches in your throat. You should push him a way - you know you should. You have a girlfriend (it's been a while since you talked to Terezi) and, not only that, but you're supposed to hate him. He's not even your soulmate, so why are you still sitting there? You shouldn't want this, and yet…

You drop the hand that's on his cheek, grasping at air for a moment before you latch onto his coat and pull yourself closer. Kissing Dave feels right, as much as you don't want to admit it. It feels like you've been waiting for this your whole life. He threads his fingers through your hair, tugging gently and deepening the kiss. You feel like you can't breathe, but you can't pull away either. Pulling away means that the moment will be ruined. It means that looking at Dave will be awkward as he tries to apologize and you try to tell him that you loved it. That you love him. Because you do love Dave, and it's time that you finally admitted it, to him especially.

But first, you have to be sure. He knows who his soulmate is and, though you are a likely candidate, you can't fight the nagging doubt at the back of your mind. He could just be playing some sick game for his own amusement. You don't want this all to mean nothing. So… You reach up, grasping the side of his shades. Just a quick peek, and you'll know that this - how you're feeling - isn't going to end. That it's not a joke.

Suddenly, Dave pulls back, pushing you away by your shoulders and holding you at arm's length. Your eyes fly open and crinkle in confusion as you watch him. He's breathing hard - unnaturally so - and he looks like he's in pain. "Dave, what's-" you go to ask, reaching out to touch him, but he slaps your hand away.

Your eyes widen in shock, and your hand stings where he hit you, but you don't really care. Dave is swaying on his feet, looking down at you with an expression that you can't quite place. It reminds you all too much of the look he gave you four months ago, there on the classroom floor. "Don't, Karkat." He says, though it sounds forced, like it's a struggle for him to get the words out. "I- I don't think we should see each other anymore." Dave tells you. You know that he's not looking at you, but the details seem irrelevant when his words are so real. And boy do they hurt.

"What? But-" You, again, reach out to touch him - make him stay - but this time, he simply steps back. He looks like an animal back into a corner, but you can't imagine why. Why is he so scared to look you in the eye?

"Goodbye, Karkat." Dave turns to go, and you see hesitance in that first step. Like he almost can't bring himself to just walk away from you. But then his second-thoughts are gone, and so is he, walking back the way you came like he'll die if he stays a second longer.

You don't go after him. You're not sure what that would accomplish, anyway. You watch Dave go, feeling a crushing emptiness inside as your hand - still outstretched to grab him - falls back to your side. Snow falls heavily all around you, and soon the silhouette of his figure is gone. His footprints, you know, won't be visible by morning. You don't know why snow is considered romantic. It's horrible. It's erasing what you care the most about while you, still sitting on the bench, are powerless to stop it.

When the tears start, you don't bother wiping them away or trying to smother your sobs. They're not sad tears - tears of defeat and sorrow. Rather, they're angry tears that burn your cheeks where they fall and make you want to punch something. Preferably yourself.

You fucked up. Oh boy, did you fuck up. You are the king of fuck ups - it's official. And as much as you hate the world and soulmates and your love of romance, you hate yourself even more. You scream every vulgar word you know until your throat is raw and you're amazed that no one has come to tell you to shut up yet. You kick the bench you were just sitting on and, though you jammed your toe, you don't feel it. You don't feel anything except the ache that consumes your very being.

Because despite your best efforts, you're in love with Dave, and Dave's in love with you. And you think you just blew it.


	4. Sad, But True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Okay, I'm just putting this here so that future readers are made aware ahead of time, and can get that stick out of their ass before getting their hands on the "comment" button.  
> I've gotten some, shall we say, "complaints" about this chapter. Specifically, that there's a "Holocaust joke" in this chapter. I use airquotes because it's not a fucking joke. It's a comparison. A Holocaust joke would be something like, "what do Jews and pizza have in common. They both go in the oven!" Haha, LOL, offensive jokes all around.  
> Okay, that's a joke. Not what I did in this chapter. Maybe I shouldn't mention the Holocaust at all ever, but fuck you guys, I'm not changing in. Get used to being "triggered" before you get into the real world, because the real world doesn't give a flying fuck if you're offended.  
> No other website I post on has had this problem. I've come to the conclusion that AO3 is just Tumblr all over again. And I'm already fucking sick of it. I haven't cared about this story in 8 months. I don't need your fucking opinions on one line that, frankly, I don't care about. It's over, it's done with, and if that ruins the whole damn fic for you, then great, but don't tell me about it.

January 27th, 2017

You don't see Dave for over a month. You tally the days in your head, feeling more and more hopeless with each day that he doesn't show up for first period. You thought that you had hit rock bottom a long time ago, but nothing - nothing - compares to how absolutely meaningless you feel when Dave continues to not appear.

The worst part isn't even that he's gone. It's the pity you get after every turn. You can see it on their faces, even if most of your friends won't say it out right. You suppose that you weren't as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. It's hard to tell with some of them (especially Sollux - his pure white eyes make it hard to know what he's feeling) but you're not an idiot. The sorry looks you get - from John and Kanaya and especially Rose - make it pretty clear.

You made a mistake.

You made a huge mistake, and you have no clue how to fix it.

You miss Dave too much to be considered normal. You're borderline obsessive, even. Desperate to hear even the smallest bit of news about him. Technically, it's considered stalking to check his FaceBook, Tumblr, shitty DeviantArt account, and text him non-stop for at least two hours every day. But you don't care. He doesn't post on any of them, or reply to your texts. You think that you're going insane. You hardly ever eat or sleep anymore. Though, to be fair, you didn't do much of those things to begin with. Your brother - Kankri - has gone back to college, but you see his influence everywhere. It's in the way your parents are suddenly invested in your mental state and the several "relaxation vacation" brochures scattered about your house. You find it insulting that they think you're that stupid. You know what they're doing, and it's not going to work. You don't need relaxation, dammit! You need-

What do you need?

The question nags at you, even as you pull yourself out of bed, go to school, and stumble through the first two periods in a daze. You're completely out of it. If someone said that they would break your arm unless you could tell them what happened in second period, then you'd get your arm broken. You can't believe how dependent you've become on Dave's presence. He's just one guy, for fuck's sake! Or, at least, he should be. And you can't fathom why he's not.

"Karkat." A familiar voice jars you from your thoughts, and you jump. Your heart pounds, and though it's not quite the same, you pretend for a moment that it's because Dave is with you.

Wow.

Holy shit, you really are pathetic, huh?

You, as per the norm, are sitting at one of the many chairs in the library. A book is open in your lap, but you have no clue what book it is. By the looks of things, you're on page 57, but you don't remember anything you just read. Great. Now you have to start all over.

You close the book and put it with your other stuff, looking up at Terezi, who is standing above you with a tense expression. "Hey." You say. Not the best opening admittedly, but it's all you can bother to scrape up for the time being.

She sighs and rolls her eyes, taking a seat next to you. You don't know what she wants. You and Terezi haven't spoken in… shit, when did you last speak to her? You suppose it was around the same time you spoke to everyone else. Which was a month ago. Huh. Well, that explains the look on her face. "You can't go on like this." Terezi tells you, putting a hand on your shoulder. She looks half concerned and half annoyed and, in all honesty, it's a strange look on her.

"Like what?" You ask, playing dumb instead of saying, "yes, I know, please help me" like you wanted to. You eye the hand on your shoulder for a moment, but decide to just leave it there. "Terezi, I'm just reading. I'm fine." Even you wouldn't believe yourself. You sound so insecure. Your statements sound like questions. You're not even sure why you're bothering to lie to Terezi. She's never fallen for your bullshit before, so why would she start now?

Terezi raises an eyebrow, looking slightly offended and extremely done with your shit. "Fine." She sighs. "If you don't want to say it, then I will. We've all noticed, Karkat. You think people in a small town can't tell when someone stops coming to school? Do you honestly believe that your friends wouldn't care if you stopped talking to us? Or, anyone, actually?"

Her hand tightens on your shoulder, almost to the point of being painful, and you try to worm your way out of her grasp. "Terezi-" You try, and she squeezes until you begrudgingly shut your mouth and sit still. You're really not in the mood to get your shoulder broken today.

"You love him." She continues, and this time, you don't feel the need to object. What's the point when she's right? "I know how much you romanticize your soulmate, but Karkat, fated or not, you love Dave." Her angry expression turns into a small smile. "I was honestly surprised when you asked me out a year ago. And it was fun while it lasted, but let's be honest. You never felt that way about me. You were just afraid to be alone. And if I'm being real, so was I."

This time, when she sighs, it's with a weariness that makes you think. Terezi is wise beyond her years. Maybe being blind can do that to you? You wouldn't know. She's looking up at the ceiling now, and you follow her gaze. You don't see anything there, but maybe that's the point. She certainly isn't seeing anything deep and meaningful. It's about seeing what you need, you suppose. And just like everywhere else you look, all you can see when you look up at the tiles is Dave. You miss him. You miss him so much that it hurts. It hurts, and you hate it, and you hate love, and you hate yourself. But - fuck it - you can't help but love him. You can't help but need him. You're past the point of no return, and it's time you finally told him that.

"Thanks, Terezi." You smile for the first time in over a month and climb to your feet. You step around her cane (you didn't even notice that earlier) and press a quick kiss to her cheek. "Really. I mean it."

She smiles too, and looks at you. For the first time, you get the feeling that she's really seeing you. Because you're really seeing her. She's so much more than the girl you asked out - if only because she seemed to understand you then. Because neither of you wanted to be alone. "From you, Karkat, that means a lot." And her words, though they could easily be mistaken to be sarcastic, come out honest. Maybe the most honest she's ever been with you.

You know what you need to do now.

You really should wait until school is over, because it's still lunch time, but you've already waited over a month. You've officially run out of patience.

You cram all of your shit into your backpack and take it home with you. In love or not, it's Friday, and you have homework. You may be a teenager, but you're not irresponsible! This is real life, not a ridiculous movie. Or, worse, a fanfiction. God, that would be awful. You get the feeling that no one would be able to portray you properly if you were in a fanfiction. You're a very complex person, after all.

The ladder Dave used to climb up to your window on Christmas is still there. You did move it, though. It's up against the side of the house and not directly below your window. That would be too suspicious, even considering your parents' relaxed nature. You honestly have no clue how two of the most mellow people in the world created Kankri. You doubt you'll ever know, but you have bigger fish to fry for the time being.

No one is home right now, which is great, because if there's one thing your parents take seriously, it's your education. You dump your school stuff in your room and quickly head back downstairs. As excited as you are, you're not dumb enough to jump out the window to get to the ground. That wouldn't go well.

Instead, you spend the next five minutes puzzling over Dave's ladder before you finally figure out how it works. Ladders are so complicated nowadays. But it doesn't matter, you guess. Regardless, you contract the ladder to be just above your height. Getting it to Dave's house won't be easy, though. You're not the strongest person. You used to take karate when you were younger, and you were actually really good at it, but now that you've stopped… you doubt that you could even fight off a leprechaun. Good thing those aren't real.

You waste another ten minutes puzzling over your latest obstacle - transportation - and eventually come to one conclusion. You know how to drive - even if you don't have your license yet. And your mom got a ride with a friend to work this morning, so there's a spare car in the garage. And you just so happen to know where the keys are kept…

Wow, this is a really bad idea. Like, on a scale of "1" to "invade Russia in the winter" your idea is definitely "kill all of the Jews" levels of bad.

And yet, two minutes later, you find yourself firmly planted in the driver's' seat of your mom's pick-up truck with the ladder crammed into the back. God, the smart part of your brain really hates you right now. That doesn't stop you from putting the key in the lock and starting the engine, though. It does, however, give you pause as your foot hovers over the gas pedal. But your hesitance is quickly gone, and soon you're driving down the street. You're so happy that the majority of people are still working or in school. You should be with them, but then again, so should Dave. Or just with you. Really, he could be in one of those two places, and you would be fine. Or maybe just in that second place you mentioned. Yeah. That seems about right.

You pull up besides Dave house, surveying the scene. His house doesn't have a garage, and you can't see any cars in the driveway, so you assume that no adults are home. Which is great for you. All the lights in the house are off, but his window is cracked, which is also great for you. Not so great for them. They really should be more careful - leaving a window open while the house is clearly deserted. Or, well, you hope it's not. Not completely, at least.

You can only faintly recall the layout of his house from the tour you were give when you visited a month ago. You really hope that you have the right window. Otherwise, you'll be very embarrassed.

Your stomach is tied in knots, but you push onward. You prop the ladder up below his window and, as a second thought, pack a lot of half-melted snow around the legs. You're sure that falling off of a ladder and hurting yourself isn't the best way to proclaim your love to someone. And by "pretty sure" you mean "really fucking positive" of course. You are, after all, a genius when it comes to both romantic relationships and not getting yourself killed.

The ladder, thankfully, doesn't wobble under your weight, not that it makes you any less nervous about climbing it. It probably doesn't help that you're scared of heights. And dying. Yeah, you're definitely scared of dying. That's what's called "common sense" and you (usually) pride yourself with having a lot of that. Today is… not your best example of common sense. It's too late to go back now, though.

You make it to the top and, doing your best to pretend that you're not two stories up, slip your fingers under the cracked window and lift it up. Luckily, it opens silently. It's a bit odd since Dave's house is actually from the older part of town, but you're not going to complain.

Dave's room is almost completely dark. The only light is coming from the window, and it's a cloudy day, so it's not like it's making a huge difference. You can see the outline of his computer desk, turntables, bed, and his other assorted shit with the little light you have. There's a lump on his bed and that along with the soft snoring you're hearing tells you that Dave is sleeping. Great. Looks like your luck has run out. Oh, well. You're not fucking climbing back down. As a matter of fact…

You wiggle into his room on your stomach, falling to the floor as silently as you can. You're not very good at being quiet but, though he stirs, he doesn't wake up, and you sigh in relief. You climb to your feet and turn back to the window. This is, once again, a stupid idea. You know it is, but you still push the ladder away from the window anyway. It lands in the front yard with a dull thud, cushioned thanks to both the snow and the soft ground.

With that done, you run a hand through your hair and turn back to Dave. You don't want to wake him. Something tells you that he really needs his sleep. Instead, you take a seat in his desk chair and prepare to wait. Normally, you'd take your phone out to help you pass the time, but you just sit. You just sit and watch him sleep. You sure have gotten creepy in the last few months. But creepy or not, his desk is situated next to the head of his bed, and Dave just so happens to be facing you so, yeah, you're going to watch. He looks a lot different when he's asleep. He looks so… peaceful. You wonder why Dave isn't like that when he's awake. He's always so tense. You still don't know why that is, do you? You want to know what's going on in his life that's made him so anxious all the time.

Maybe it has something to do with that "not enough time" thing that Dirk mentioned when you accidentally overheard their conversation. You don't like to think about that much. Maybe Dave's moving again? It's not impossible, but that would be a little weird since he and his sister get here - what? - about six months ago to live with their mom? That sounds about right. But, still, for all you know, he moves a lot. Maybe he's going to Texas to live with his dad. Dave's parents just flat-out baffle you.

You don't understand why they would marry someone besides their soulmate - let alone have four kids with them. His mom only found her soulmate around four weeks ago, anyway. It was John's dad - go figure, right? The only reason you know this at all is that John and Rose both won't stop talking about it at school. They talk about what a coincidence it is, and joke plans for a wedding, and how odd it is that John's soulmate is going to be his step-sister.

Soulmates are creepy. They're creepy, and they make creepy people as a result (you did just break into someone's house to watch him sleep). But as far as you know, Dave's dad is still out of luck. Fuck - who knows? Maybe his soulmate is Jade's uncle. She and that other guy - Jake or Joke or something - are siblings, after all. They're cousins with John and his older sister, Jane, who you hardly ever see now that she's in college. Fuck, relationships and blood ties are confusing. Still, it certainly would complete the loop if Dave's dad and Jade's uncle ended up together. You don't know why you thought of him, of all people. You only met him once, at Jade's 10th birthday party. He was a bit… eccentric for your tastes. By which you mean, "batshit insane".You think he lives on an island or something equally stupid.

God, all of this thinking about soulmates and relationships and not Dave is starting to give you a headache. You need to stop it. Why the fuck are you ever listing this all out in your head, anyway? It's not like anyone cares, least of all you. You should just worry about making it up to Dave and finding a way to stay in touch before he moves. That's something you can do easily.

Shit, how much time have you wasted with all of this nonsense? You turn on your phone to quickly check, and internally groan. 2:26. How much longer is Dave going to sleep, anyway? By the looks of things, he's been sleeping all day. Why does he even need this much sleep to begin with? So many questions, and so few answers. You could shake him awake and demand some, but you're not heartless. God. You can wait, say, another hour, can't you? Probably not, but you'll try.

You settle in for the wait, pulling your legs up to your chest. This is your favorite sitting position, and Dave's chair just so happens to be big enough to allow it. Which is nice. Dave has a really great chair. Maybe you could fit it out the window without him waking up? But, no. Even if you could, that would be stealing, and that on top of breaking into a house won't look good on your permanent record. Then again-

"Fergalicious, definition, make them boys go loco!" You phone blares suddenly. You jump in surprise, sending both you and the chair toppling to the floor on your side while you scramble for your phone. You dig it out of your pocket, fumbling for a moment at it's sudden brightness. Fuck, why didn't you put your phone on silent? And why is Terezi's ringtone so fucking loud? "They want my treasure so they get their pleasures from-" The music cuts off just as quickly as it began, and you sigh in relief.

"Thank fucking God." You mutter, running a hand through your hair. You're still sitting on the floor, but you don't mind so much. Or, at the least, you don't feel the need to move just yet.

"Yeah, thank God." Dave agrees, peering down at you from his position on the end of the bed. "That song is so obnoxious. I'm kind of disappointed that you'd download it, Karkat."

You glare at him, then put your phone away and climb to your feet. His shades are on again, which means that you missed your five second window to see if his eyes match yours. Great. "Done with your beauty rest then?" You ask sarcastically.

Dave nods, changing his position so that he's on his back with his head dangling over the edge of the bed. "Yeah, thanks to you. I guess that makes you my Prince Charming, huh?" He grins, and you're fairly sure that he threw in a wink for good measure.

You're glad that his room is so dark - otherwise he'd notice you blushing.

Without warning, Dave's face suddenly contorts into one of agony and he shoots up into a sitting position. He pounds against his chest, coughing so hard that you're afraid he's literally going to rip out a lung. You move back a few inches, watching him carefully. You get the feeling that you should pat his back and help him out, but with all of the germs he's no doubt hacking up? Uh, no thanks. You'll stay at a safe distance until he stops.

Finally, he stops, clearing his throat. "So, what are you doing here?" Dave asks, looking up at you like nothing happened.

You raise an eyebrow, then roll your eyes and shake your head. "Dave, you are - hands down - the stupidest person I've ever met if you honestly think I'm just going to let your impression of a dying whale slide right by."

He sighs, and lets his arms give out, lying flat on his back. "Okay, fine, I knew you wouldn't buy it. But I was hoping." Dave admits. He has his hands clasped over his stomach, like this is a stereotypical therapy session or some shit.

"Okay, so… what? You have a cold? The flu? That doesn't really warrant an entire month in bed, Dave." You point out, crossing your arms impatiently. "No, wait. I got it. Pneumonia?" You guess. Then again, he'd be in a hospital for something like that, but it's the best you've got. He probably would have gotten it from taking you out in the cold on Christmas. The thought makes your chest tight with guilt, but you don't tell him this. You just wait for his confirmation.

"Well, you're close." He laughs nervously, turning his head away from you and to the ceiling. "See, the thing is, I sort of have…" Dave swallows hard, struggling to spit it out, "terminal lung cancer…?"

You frown. "That's not funny, Dave." You say lowly. It's not funny to joke about having terminal lung cancer. You know what "terminal" means. It means that it's fatal - that he doesn't have long to live. It's the kind of joke that you'd strangle someone for telling you. It's especially unfunny when you realize that you seriously panicked for a second. You love him, and the fact that he's toying with your emotions this way makes you seriously consider why.

Dave fumbles into a sitting position, shuffling towards you on his knees. "Karkat." He begins seriously, putting his hands on your shoulders. "I'm not fucking with you. Did you ever stop to wonder why I moved here?" You purse your lips, but shake your head. "My dad smokes, Karkat. So last summer, when we... found out, my mom offered to move me out here with her for some fresh air. And I did it because I felt like I was supposed to. It felt like there was something made for me here."

"Your soulmate?" You guess quietly. It takes all of your willpower to not look down. You focus instead on the dead center of his shades and study your reflexion. You look pale and scared and absolutely helpless. And you hadn't noticed before, but Dave is shaking too.

He nods, looking suddenly fragile. "Yes. My soulmate. And, funnily enough, Dirk's, Rose's, Roxy's, and my mom's. We were destined to be here. Dirk even knew his soulmate before they even met. Online chatting and shit. They'll be happy together. They all will. But me? Not so much." He smiles, but there's no humor or enjoyment on his face. " Kind of cruel isn't it? I could have died just fine never knowing who I was meant to be with, but now that I've met them…" Dave trails off.

"It… it feels like you've never lived until you met them, right?" You finish for him. "Like they bring you to life, and you're nothing without them, are they're nothing without you." You shut your mouth after that. No one wants to hear you blather on and on about how Dave makes you feel.

"Yeah." He agrees, and trails a hand down your arm, gently taking your hand in his. "But… the worst part isn't what I'm losing. It's what they're going to have to deal with once I'm gone." He chuckles but, again, it's a humorless sound. "Can you imagine? The pitiful looks they'll get when people notice their white eyes? What would it even be like - to wake up every morning waiting for the universe to off you so that you can meet your soulmate in the next life?"

You take a deep, shuddering breath. People never live longer than five years after their soulmate. It's nice that the universe is considerate like that. "So… it's actually true then? You're dying?"

Dave looks down are your entwined hands, squeezing softly. "Yep. Stage five lung cancer when they caught it. The best the doctors can do is give me two or three more years at the most. But I don't want that. That wouldn't be living. That'd be surviving." He shakes his head. "Just like how seeing my eyes isn't a good way to fall in love."

Oh wow, the guilt. If you weren't feeling guilty before, you sure as fuck are now. You don't feel it, but the reflection in Dave's shades shows that you're crying. "I'm sorry about the other night." You tell him. You mean it, too. Normally a moment like this wouldn't be allowed because of your overwhelming sense of pride, but now? Fuck your pride. Dave has who knows how much more time to live, and you need to be real with him. And when he does go… well, you don't want to think about it. "Just- when you kissed me, I wanted- I wanted to be sure, you know? That this wasn't some game we'd both lose as soon as we met "the one" and… I didn't mean for it to come across the way it did." You explain. Your voice is surprisingly steady. It's quite the opposite on how badly you're shaking on the inside.

"I know." Dave smiles sadly. "I should also apologize for just leaving you there. I panicked. And all I could think about was how bad it'd hurt to start something with you and then just die, so I left. If it even means anything anymore, I don't regret the kiss." He gives your hand a squeeze, and if you weren't crying before, you sure as Hell are now.

You can't handle this. You close your eyes, sitting next to him on the bed. He's still holding your hand, and you're glad for it. He feels like a lifeline - the only thing keeping you steady right now. And the fact that he's going to have to let go - no matter how badly you hold on to him - just makes it harder. Fuck soulmates. You don't care anymore. You love Dave, whether his eyes are red or green or something in between. Wait. That rhymed, didn't it? Well, too late now. It's not like you can backspace and rewrite your thoughts. If you could, you might consider backspacing the past five months. That would certainly hurt less, but… no, you can't do that. You don't ever want to forget Dave.

"What do we do now?" You ask softly, looking up at him. You've never felt as helpless in your entire life as you do right this moment. You feel excruciatingly empty, and you don't like it. You'd rather feel miserable than this. Misery is manageable. You… you have no idea how to deal with this… lack of emotion.

"I don't know." He admits, frowning. Your hand is tangled in the bedspread between the two of you, and his hand is covering yours securely. You lean your head against his shoulder, focusing on his turntables across the room. You can already see them in a few years - covered in dust and unused in his mother's desperate attempt to preserve her son. "I was trying to avoid this conversation, in all honesty. It would've been easier. But I've been thinking, maybe easy is overrated." Dave sighs, beginning to rub circles in the back of your hand. "I mean- you're definitely not easy. You're one of the most difficult people I've ever met." He chuckles a bit, and you can't help but smile. "These past months have been great, just so you know."

You reach up with your free hand, wiping your eyes before a tear can escape. You laugh dryly, turning your head so that you can see him out of the corner of your eye. "Yeah, I know. I feel the same way. And, I know this is probably the wrong thing to say. Everything I've ever learned from romcoms is telling me that this is the wrong thing to do, but- Dave, I gotta know." You sit up straight, staring at him with seriousness and a sense of confidence that you don't really feel. It's now or never. Either way, you're going to lose him. Just when you finally found your match. You take a deep breath. "Can I see your eyes?"

Dave purses his lips, studying you carefully for a moment. Then he sighs and, smiling faintly, he nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How fucked up would it be for their eyes to not match in the end? Guess we'll have to find out next week!


	5. The Moment He Laid Eyes On You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got some complaints because I didn’t tag the cancer thing and also because of the Holocaust “joke” which wasn’t even really a joke, so I have a couple things about that.   
> 1\. Leaving something untagged is not the end of the world. It’s called real life, shit happens that you aren’t always expecting. Besides, if I had tagged it, it would’ve ruined the surprise. I did cave though, and added/changed some tags for future readers. Sort of as a compromise/apology.  
> 2\. Again with the real life thing. People are gonna make jokes you aren’t always comfortable with. You might as well get used to it now, because IRL, the types of people who makes those jokes won’t give a damn what you think (even though my statement wasn’t a joke, but whatever).  
> I have this story up on two different websites as well, but this one is the only one giving me problems with the aforementioned subjects. Seriously. Not a single word about them on the other websites. I dunno, maybe ArchiveOfOurOwn is just trigger happy.  
> Oh! And this part actually isn't sarcastic - it's serious, I swear. I appreciate the constructive criticism. As an aspiring author, I need all the help I can get. However, some of the things you guys pointed out are part of my writing style. Like shitty fourth wall breaks and repeats/callbacks of previously used jokes/phrases. Seriously, though. I really appreciate it. Keep it up.

August 22nd, 2036

You reach out, your hands shaking as you grip his shades. They're still on his face. You don't think you can do it. You don't know if you're ready for this. If he's not the one… what will you ever do with yourself?

"You can do it." He smiles reassuringly, though it's shaky and slightly forced. "And no matter what, just know that I love you."

Your grip tightens. "I… I love you, too." You tell him, and you know it to be true. Whether he's your soulmate or not, somehow, in the five months you've known him, you've fallen in love.

He gives you a small, subtle nod and you take a deep breath before lifting his shades off. Your eyes meet his, and time slows down. The change is only slight - both of your eyes are already red - but when you blink, his are both a bright crimson. Your eyes, you already know, are both an ugly burgundy as a result, but you've never cared less about their color than you do right this very moment.

"All this time?" You mutter softly, and though you feel betrayed, you can't bring yourself to be mad at him. There's no time for petty emotions like anger. All you have is the here and now. Besides, you think you always sort of knew. Even when you thought you hated him, he was special to you. He was different from everyone else without even trying.

He nods, holding your hand loosely. The pulse in his wrist is weak against your fingertips - it's too faint - but you try not to think about it too much. If you do, you know you'll start crying. "Yeah." He admits with a nod. "I know how much you wanted to find your soulmate, but I wanted to win you over because you love me as a person - not because of something stupid our eyes did when we looked at each other."

You suck in a deep breath, nodding slightly. "I understand, Dave. And…" You give his hand a squeeze, your eyes beginning to water. "I'm glad you did. I- I just wish that you didn't wait so damn long to tell me." Your voice cracks and he sits up straight in bed, pulling you into a hug as you choke back sobs. You know that it must pain him to move, and it makes you cry harder.

"It's okay." He mutters against your neck. "We're soulmates. In this life or the next, we'll be happy together."

You return the hug, your arms fitting snugly around him - like they belong there - as you bury your face in his chest. "I'll find you. I'll never stop looking, Dave. I promise."

Your eyes shoot open, no doubt bloodshot and unnaturally wide, as your alarm clock pulls you from your dream yet again. God, the same one every night for the past month. You can't even remember anything from them except for the feeling of… want. Whatever is going on in the dream, you want it badly. You want it more than anything you've ever wanted in your entire life. But there's always the underlying sense that, no matter how close it is, you just can't. You can't have it. It can never be yours.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. You untangle yourself from the blankets and glance at the clock. 7:01 am on the dot.

Your name is Alex Curtis, and it's too early for this shit.

It's also too early to be awake (in your firm opinion) but you don't have much of a choice. It's the first day of your senior year - you can do this. Even if you'll have to force yourself through most of it.

With a great deal of effort, you heave yourself out of bed and trudge to the bathroom. Your high school is only two blocks away, so you're not in too much of a hurry. It starts at eight, anyway, so what do you care? You don't, actually. Not at all. But your mom will kill you if you don't get your ass to school and get straight As (for yet another year), so you go anyway.

You don't bother to shower. It's not like you do much, anyway. What kind of stink or dirt can you even get from staying home all day and drawing shitty fan art on your computer? You hate your drawings, but everyone else seems to like them. It's why you keep at it at all. Maybe someday you'll be satisfied with your work, but that day isn't today.

Your dream is still on your mind, but this time, the clinching nervousness in your chest came to the waking world with you. You don't know what it means. Probably something important, right?

You turn on the sink, splashing some warm water on your face. It makes you feel better. Soothes you. In the mirror, your mismatched eyes, heavy from lack of sleep, stare weakly back at you. You hate your eyes. Or, well, one of them at least. The one you hate is an ugly, dark red color. Slightly too red to be burgundy, but still dim enough that it could be brown under the right lights. Your left eye though - the one you adore - is a deep crimson color. It's vibrant and bright and you love it. You love that your soulmate is going to have such lovely eyes.

"Alex!" The shrill voice of your mother along with the pounding on the door causes you to flinch. "You've been in there for a good ten minutes! Either get in the shower or get out!"

You sigh, and turn off the sink. The water is cold now, anyway. Had you really been thinking for that long? You open the door, squeezing past your mother as she immediately tries to push her way in. The bathroom door slams shut behind her, just narrowly missing your fingers. You refrain from muttering a sarcastic remark under your breath. You know that she'll hear you. She always does.

A quick glance at your cheap, discount store watch tells you that it's 7:15. It's way too early to head to school, but you don't care. You'd rather be anywhere but here.

You hurry to get dressed, not bothering to make sure that you grab clean clothes. You just want to get out. You grab your phone from where it's charging on your nightstand and, almost as a second thought, slip on your ratty hoodie. You've had it for so long that it's starting to fit a little too tightly, but you can't bring yourself to replace it. It's a gift from your dad, so you wear it almost everywhere, no matter what the temperature. At the very least, it's August, so the weather is just chilly enough for you to get away with it.

The fresh air clears your mind, just as you were hoping it would. Your approaching migraine subsides, and you allow yourself to breathe a small sigh of relief. Something still nags at you, though. Something doesn't feel right.

Going left from your house will take you to the school, you know that, but it doesn't feel… like you should. Instead, you find yourself going right. Why? You don't know. Maybe you need more time to think about your dream. Because you remember something. Red. Crimson red eyes, staring into your soul, looking at you as though you're made of glass. It made you feel so vulnerable, being completely open to him, but you also felt more loved than you ever had in your entire life. You want that feeling again. You really, really do. Too bad you can only get in in your dreams. You can also recall something else, but it's much fuzzier than his eyes. Something platinum. Unnaturally so.

You stop walking and sit on a nearby bench, resting your head in your hands. God, this is so confusing. You don't even know the guy in your dreams, but you miss him. You miss him so badly that it hurts. Not physically, but a deep rooted, soul-throbbing kind of ache. You need him but why? Why why why? Why?

You feel like screaming. Crying, shouting, even flipping the bench you're sitting on. You're fucking shaking for God's sake. Why is a dream that you can hardly remember affecting you this way?

A flash of platinum catches your attention, and you jerk your head up. A girl, just across the street. She's wearing worn jeans and a loose graphic tee, and her backpack is slung securely over one shoulder as she bobs her head along to whatever song she's pumping through her earbuds.

You've never seen her before in your entire life, but her hair. It's so achingly familiar, that you can almost feel it running through your finders. You find yourself on your feet, just barely remembering to look both ways before you cross the street. You expect a car to come zooming out of nowhere and rip this moment away from you with cruel yet expected suddenness, but nothing stops you.

For a second, the world shifts, and you're not you anymore. You're a short boy with a vocabulary too broad for his own good and tears streaming from his eyes that can't seem to be stopped. And she's the boy from your dream, smiling grimly as hands push you back. And-

you struggle to get closer to him even as the hospital doors swing shut before your very eyes. You know deep down that it's too late. That you've already lost him. A medically induced death. It was his idea. Better than waiting out his last week as a husk of who he used to be, in his opinion. And that's a lot better than letting the cancer slowly and painfully finish him off, except for one small problem. You're just not ready yet. Your eyes have only been the same for a week. You can't lose him now! Not when he's finally yours. You want to kiss him more, and curl up with him on the couch, and have nights so passionate that you can't walk the next morning. You want a family. You want it all. With him. And your wonderful future is being torn away while you're helpless to stop it. You struggle, though. You struggle against the hands holding you back - both Dave's family and your own, telling you to stop - until you feel something snap inside of you and you fall to your knees. Your eyes, you know, aren't red anymore. They're white. Pure white. Because you just lost the only person in the world that matters. You just lost the only person who could ever make you whole.

But you shake your head, and shove the ghost of a memory away as you keep running. Because that was then and this is now and she's close, so so close. Closer than she's ever been. You run to her, and she must sense your pounding footsteps or feel something twinge in her soul like you do, because she takes her earbuds out and, confused, turns to face you.

Time slows down and you see her eyes, wide and mismatched, lock on yours. And they change as you're reaching for her hand. Her one burgundy eye - the color that looks God awful on you but lovely on her - becomes crimson as you finally reach her.

You can only think of one thing to say. One thing that feels as right as her hand in yours.

"I promised I'd find you."

And she just smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s actually mildly implied that Karkat died not too long after Dave did, seeing as how the two reincarnations of Dave and Karkat are the same age. You guys can decide how that happened for yourselves. (Also, fun fact, the reincarnation of Dave is named Lilith.)  
> Sorry for the sorta anti-climatic/disappointing ending, but the way I see it, there was no other way to end it. At this ending is happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Music Inspiration: "Mr. Right" by A Rocket to the Moon.


End file.
